


And Then-

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock expected a fight, or worse, an empty flat. What he found defied even his most optimistic scenarios.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then-

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_Nexus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/gifts).



> The first few lines are credited to Random Nexus, who put them on her blog, and asked "And then?"  
> This is my interpretation of the scene.

Climbing the stairs quietly, already prepared for the inevitable argument to come, he paused as a sound echoed down the stairwell. Laughter. No, laughter and giggles, along with a few thumps and thuds.

He continued up as silently as he could manage, pausing in the doorway of the sitting room to see…

John with a woman by his side, a laptop sitting across both their knees, the web page open to John’s abandoned blog.

As they clicked the next entry and John started to read it, though, his voice began to falter. “I-I’m sorry Mary, I just… The hounds was quite the trip.”

She leaned over to press a soft kiss to his cheek, “Another day. How about you tell me about his-” Her eyes had drifted up, and there was silence for a moment as, looking around John, she met eyes with Sherlock where he stood in the doorway, pausing only a moment before returning to her conversation with John. “His experiments. You know how much I like hearing about them.”

John gave a small nod, "There were almost always body parts involved, isn’t that right, Greg?” There was another thump in response, followed by a yelp of pain, sending both John and Mary into giggles again. “He kept things labeled, mostly. And had a head in the fridge once. That was quite a day. I can’t do this, Mary. I can’t. Talking about him, even the happiest times…”

“It’s alright, love. How’s the door, Greg? Aren’t you nearly finished? And I thought it was a screw loose, not a nail. So much thumping I’d swear you were putting up a picture!”

John laughed at that. “Oh, you know your brother-in-law. He likes to be noisy. Especially when a bedroom’s involved.”

“John!” Mary covered her face in mock horror, though it was clear she was on the brink of laughter.

“At least I just get the bed thumping. You’re the one who screams,” came the reply, Greg Lestrade’s voice drifting out as though through a door. It had both John and Mary doubled over in laughter again, their laughs like a matching set, completing each other.

Abruptly, the laughter died down. Sherlock looked around for the cause to find it was him, the door had squeaked as he came in. It was a shock to find himself there, across the threshold when he had just been toying with the idea of continuing the ruse of being dead and letting John be happy without him.

John, the man staring at him, wide-eyed, breathless from the bout of laughter just moments before. The pain in those eyes grew as they took in the sight of him, pain„ edged with the fires of anger. Well deserved anger, Sherlock knew. He was shocked to find his lip quivering, his vision blurring with the start of tears. Three years was too long to go without his best friend. Why had he refused the offer Mycroft had made to keep an eye on him and send Sherlock updates? Why had he been so stubborn?

There were changes to his John, slight alterations, differences from the man he’d left behind. He was thinner, looked more worn, and there was a cane leaning against his chair that Sherlock hadn’t noticed until now, until this moment where he couldn’t bear the accusation in those eyes. It was the sight of the cane that set off his tears, that all too visible sign of how much John had been hurt by what he’d done. 

“I-” he didn’t get to finish whatever apology was about to pour from his lips. John’s fist came too quickly, a hit he knew he deserved, and was followed by the pair of John’s hands -warm, calloused hands- holding on to either side of Sherlock’s face as he pulled him down for a soft kiss.

“You ruddy great fool.” John said, half a smile on his face, “Making me worry like that. God, if Mycroft hadn’t sent pictures…” his face grew serious as he looked Sherlock over. “You look half starved! Did you forget to eat without me there to feed you? Greg! Stop mucking about with that door and help me cook! Mary, be a dear and fetch Mrs. Hudson? Christ, Sherlock, you’re lucky Mycroft let us in on this or I swear the shock would have given Mrs. Hudson a heart attack.” he continued rambling as he bustled around the kitchen. “And don’t think that you’re off the hook either! Three meals a day, REAL meals, mind you, and a bedtime will be enforced until further notice.” with pots clanking on the stove, John turned to look at him, “Well, Sherlock?”

He was silent for a moment, blinking away the tears, still in shock by what was going on. “I- yes, John.”

John’s expectant face melted into a grin, though Sherlock could see faint trails of tears on his cheeks as well. “Good. That’s… Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> No relationships are tagged, because John is so boning Greg, Mary, and Sherlock in the near future. I don't know when I'll get to write in this verse again, so I thought I'd share that tidbit with you guys here. But as nothing is explicitly stated in text, I didn't feel right tagging it.


End file.
